


saccharine

by Anonymous



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom/sub, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 06:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12184911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: She has him kneel, eat cherries from her palm that are sugary sweet.





	saccharine

**Author's Note:**

> \o/ aha..ahaaha... modern AU, neighbors 2b and 9s, with some mildly explicit scenes below.
> 
> this was a little rushed, please comment & tell me what you think! if there is a positive response, I may continue?
> 
> anyways, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> edit: formatting is a little weird,, bare with me!  
> edit2: such a positive response! I'll be writing more <3 your comments give me life

If you asked 9S what he expected to get out of moving out on his own, he’d tell you, “Independence. Responsibility. Quiet study time.” And his smile would be so kind, you’d nod along with him. 

 

He did not expect 2B.

 

 

-

 

 

Introductions are awkward, being the new neighbor kind of always is, but 2B is nice, if a little distant. But their interaction is nice and he doesn’t think much of it besides how gorgeous she is and how sweet her voice was, while he unpacks and organizes his things. He doesn’t expect her to come over with _cookies_ of all things, and cooling tea in two mugs. She’s juggling all three things in her hands and he’s staring at her stupidly from his door. 

 

2B makes an annoyed sound and pushes past him, right into his kitchen. He’s stunned, and vaguely thinks that her apartment probably has the same layout as his. The click of her heels on the floor behind him makes him question if this is really happening. He turns. She sets the mugs down, unwraps the cookies and fixes him with a look that speaks volumes. 

 

9S shuts his front door, shuffles past her so he can sit at the little barstools in front of the breakfast bar and promptly shoves an entire cookie in his mouth. 

 

She arches a perfectly shaped white brow at him, lips suddenly tight around the corners and he hurriedly tries to speak- to say something- and he just spews crumbs and coughs around the whole thing, slapping his chest. He’s somewhere between ‘death’ and ‘surviving but losing a lung’ when he stops and hears it. 

 

2B is laughing at him, quietly but she definitely is. It’s the holiest sound he’s ever heard and he thinks he finds God sitting at his kitchen counter, trying to swallow down a cookie on a Wednesday evening. 

 

 

-

 

It’s almost scary how well they click. 2B is mostly silent and sweet, a calm large presence by his side and 9S will chatter someone’s ears off if they let him. (And 2B lets him. Its a rare moment when she asks him to be quiet, and it only happens if she’s preoccupied with studying or dealing with her coworkers asking for shift changes over text.) She’s viper quick with snark and wipes her face of emotion in the middle of 9S cracking a joke just to see him stumble, just to laugh at him. He’ll playfully swat at her, sitting on her couch watching HGTV and peeling oranges. 

 

The undersides of his nails are bright and they sting a little. He’s gross so he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucks on the juice that rolls down them because he’s bad at peeling and kind of just stabs at it with his fingers. He doesn’t notice 2B is staring at him do it until she lets out a little sigh and he turns to look at her. 

 

“Hm?” The corners of his mouth burn with the acid of it. 

 

She doesn’t dignify him with a response, just pulls her legs, bare, up to her chest and rips an orange in half with her hands. Thick peel and everything.

 

 

-

 

 

 

If he’s not in class, he’s with 2B. And even when he’s in class, he’s texting her. Silly things, _look at this bird video_ , regular things, _how are you today?_ , emotional things where he hesitates over the send button, _I miss you, I hope you’re well_. She responds promptly to them, _Cute_ , _Fine. How are you?_ , and _I miss you too. When do you get out of class?_

 

They cook together, most days of the week. Alternating between their apartments, her’s, where 2B keeps protein powder and a fridge stocked with vegetables and fruit and his, where he prefers crackers, frozen dumplings and his rice cooker. They’ll bicker over what to make and rarely get take out. 

 

She gets his mail, he finds himself folding some of her laundry if its out, and together they clean on Saturdays. They’ll get groceries on Sundays and margaritas on Tuesdays at the Mexican place a few blocks over. They join the twins that live across from both of them, 6O and 21O, almost always. And almost always, the twins are three drinks ahead of them and on their way to wasted. (9S has to shuffle home with 21O leaning heavily against him while 2B carries 6O like it’s nothing- he curses her strength and then spends the entire walk back admiring the flex of her muscles through her shirt.) On Fridays, 2B works until six and 9S has class until five so he fixes up dinner more often than not and lounges around her apartment. 

 

2B leaves her gym’s hoodie thrown over his couch, one evening where they stayed up late watching bad war movies and studying. He sees it before he heads to class, rushing out the door. It’s been chillier out, so he grabs it and shoves his arms through it, lets it fall over the top of his thighs. 2B is longer than him, taller, more muscular and 9S feels warm under the collar. 

 

He’s curled up on his couch, thumbing through an old novel when 2B comes through the door, gym bag laid across her back like a weight. She leans to the side and lets it fall on the floor, chases the sounds coming from the living room. 9S blinks up at her from the couch, smile in place and greeting ready to leave his lips-

 

“You should wear my clothes more often.” It’s said simply, matter-of-fact and 9S falters. His face colors, and he shuts his book closed. He’s been wearing the hoodie all day, and now that he’s home he’d just taken his jeans off and put on some worn black shorts that cut off above his knees. 

 

He can’t think fast enough, can’t dissect that statement for everything thats packed into it so he just says, “Okay,” and that’s it. 

 

(If he presses closer to her after they have dinner, presses his face right under her jaw and breathes in deep, well. That’s between them.)

 

-

 

 

It doesn’t happen when he expects it, but he is expecting it to happen. 

  
2B is leaning against the headboard of her bed, running her hands into 9S’ hair, in out in out in out. He’s almost asleep against her chest, drowning in one of her sweaters. This one is from her old high school honor society, the string of the hood missing. 

 

Her hand travels down to his hip, slides its way under the sweater and against his skin. He jolts, then relaxes. His own hand curves around her bicep and he looks up at her, curious. 

 

She meets his gaze and they meet in the middle, soft lips. Her lashes touch down to her cheeks, and 9S reaches his hand up to caress her jaw. 2B smiles down at him, and he returns the sentiment, flushed. 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

She’ll come by in the morning, sometimes, if she’s not working. They’ll share breakfast on his ratty couch and she’ll feed him pieces of toast and sausage from her plate. He’ll press a kiss into her palm and she’ll slip a finger into his mouth. They come together like a hot knife and butter, pressed so firmly that neither can tell where the other begins. 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

On Valentine’s Day, 2B comes over with wine and groceries. The kiss she presses into his cheek leaves a chapstick-wet mark. 9S fidgets around the bags and casts his eyes on her. She looks unimpressed with him as she pours herself a glass of water. 9S has never used his wine glasses before. He forgot he even had them.

 

He gets to work, unwraps the meat and washes the vegetables. He presses seasoning into a cut of steak and 2B presses kisses into the back of his neck. She’s wearing heels, tall and dark against her thighs and she towers over him. 9S feels drunk on the feeling of it. 

 

 

-

 

 

After dinner, she nudges him into his bedroom and has him strip. He feels cold, completely nude while she’s done up in stockings, heels, an entire ensemble. Even her hair looks freshly done. 9S kneels, and 2B orders his hands around his back, palms touching his ankles. She ties him up quickly, efficiently, and wraps a black cloth around his eyes. She repeats safe words, rules, and he’s shaking before she’s even done. 

 

He’s begging for it within minutes, hot and aching with the ropes constricting around him as he writhes. 

 

2B smiles against his neck, sweet. So sweet. She licks up her palm, salty. 

 

-

 

 

 

She has him kneel, eat cherries from her palm that are sugary sweet. If he’s good, and doesn’t make a mess, then he can lick between her thighs like a kitten. The taste there is even sweeter. 

 

 

-

 

 

9S is annoyed, annoyed at his thesis, annoyed at his professors, his advisors, the man on the subway who kept bumping into him, the fact the coffee shop was sold out of his favorite kind of muffin, annoyed at himself. Everything is out of his control and he’s irritated. And he’s so keyed up, he snaps at 2B over nothing and immediately regrets it. 

 

Her face is calm, collected, and tight. 9S hates it. 

 

He’s laid across her lap, naked and raw, counting the smacks of her palm against his behind within the hour. 9S pants, hot, against 2B’s thigh and begs, “Please- please-“ and sobs at when the next smack is hard against the space where thigh and ass meet. 

 

“I didn’t say you could talk.”

 

9S whines, low in his throat and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, sorry,” Another blow in the same place. He clenches his jaw and focuses on not coming then and there. 

 

 

-

 

 

Afterwards, when 2B has fucked him roughly, slow raises of her hips on his cock, she presses kisses all over his face and cleans him up. 2B is great at aftercare. 

 

“Drink, baby,” and 9S does. “Eat this, darling,” and 9S does. “Spread your legs for me, honey,” and 9S does. 

 

He curls around her in bed, sated and pleased. She presses in, back to his front. “Thank you, 2B,” and she shushes him and reaches for the bedside lamp. 

 

It's so sweet.

 


End file.
